Norm and Zip, in mismatched chairs,
   were sipping tea and talking,
when Desi, their loyal hound, said, “Listen,
   you’re shedding like me!” (How shocking!)

Norm spat out his quinoa,
   Zip spat out her tea.
Desi howled with laughter now:
   “Just sayin’. Don’t blame me!

And, by the way, your dead skin cells
   are in my bowl of water.”
Said Norm, “That dog of yours, I think,
   could not be any odder.”

Donning his Wikipedia hat,
   the scholarly hound replied,
“Humans shed a million skin cells
   daily till they’ve died.

The skin cells that you shed are habits
   better lost forever.”
Said Zip, “That metaphor, dear dog,
   is cool and pretty clever.

I’ve noticed Norm, the germophobe,
   has lately eaten cereal
he dropped on the floor and not thought twice
   about all things bacterial.”

And Norm watched Zippy, the free spirit,
   scanning a food label
and even putting vegan dishes
   on their dinner table.

“Shed? No, no! I exfoliate,”
   said Norm, his arms flung wide.
“If not renewed, my epidermis
   would get all bleached and dried.”

Desi the Wise said, “Rubbing off
   on each other’s what’s occurring.”
As Norm and Zip began to touch,
   their stubborn ways were blurring.  

Neurotic cells and feisty cells
   jived and swung and twirled,
swapping each other’s quirks and habits,
   changing their whole world.